


Friction

by Shapeshifter99



Series: Daemons of Sleepy Hollow [3]
Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-16 05:24:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3476078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shapeshifter99/pseuds/Shapeshifter99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abbie and Visur are getting just a little bit irritated with how Crane's daemon is ignoring them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friction

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little scene that happens between episodes 2 and 3 of season 1. I have the feeling that Crane would be so worried about impropriety concerning daemons that he and Adfellida would just ignore Visur entirely in an attempt to avoid insulting anyone or making themselves embarrassed. Hope you enjoy!

It had been five days. Five days since Corbin and Sien had been murdered, five days since the Headless Horseman had galloped into town. Five days since Abbie and Visur had met Ichabod Crane and his daemon.

Abbie had ‘come to terms’ with it remarkably quickly. Visur knew that the shock of losing Corbin and his old bear had hit them both hard, and that because of it, it seemed as if nearly anything else seemed plausible. So despite having no irrefutable proof of Ichabod Crane’s claims, Abbie went along with it, and Visur as well. Sort of. Actually, not so much.

It wasn’t as if the daemon didn’t believe him… But there were plenty of other more plausible explanations for why Crane thought he was from the 18th Century. Amnesia, drugs, insanity… God knows Visur and Abbie had plenty of experience with the latter two.

Mama had always said that Abbie was the more emotive of the two of them. As her soul, Visur had taken it upon himself to shield away their emotions, to protect her at all costs. Abbie, on the other hand, was the one who was more willing to forgive and let things go. Most looked to someone’s daemon to see how they were feeling, but in this case, Abbie was the one more likely to give something away.

Not that she would, of course. She was a trained professional, and had been hardened just as much as Visur through their shared experiences. But Visur was always the one who asked to exercise caution.

So now, although Abbie seemed wholly inclined to believe Ichabod Crane and his story, Visur felt niggles of doubt that had sprung up from instinct and experience over the years. But maybe he was reacting this way simply because of Crane’s daemon. Visur had never met any creature that seemed as initially unfriendly as the polecat. She didn’t speak to any person or daemon other than her human, and kept herself distant from any type of contact or understanding with Visur. He understood that if Crane truly was from the American Revolution, the distance was normal, both from societal customs back then and the fact that the guy had somehow landed himself in the 21st Century. Yet he couldn’t help but be stung every time the daemon recoiled from him, or turned her face away pointedly to whisper in Crane’s ear. If there was anything that Visur hated, it was daemons that were rude for no reason. But again, he suspected that because of what time period in particular Ichabod Crane had sprung from… Abolitionist movement or not, it didn’t hide the fact that most people were racist assholes at the time, even if it was accidental.

So despite Abbie’s not-so-discreet attempts to get Visur to be more friendly towards Crane, the tiger daemon ignored him as haughtily as he could. It didn’t really matter anyway, since the guy jumped every time a daemon ever did so much as look in his stupidly tall direction.

But fate kept forcing them together, and now they were freaking Witnesses with a capital W.

Visur’s striped tail lashed like a whip as Crane’s voice brought him back from his thoughts. The giraffe and Abbie were discussing in soft, urgent tones about the whole Witnesses thing, Abbie clearly disbelieving. Visur felt the stirrings of satisfaction and guilt mixed together. It was mostly his fault that Abbie was so tense. Things had been difficult, and his unwillingness to accept any of it was affecting how she was reacting to things, her emotions tinted with his frustration and incredulity.

But despite everything, Crane and his daemon had come through on the Serilda of Abaddon case. So in an attempt to calm her down, Visur padded to her side and drew his tail against her leg.

Abbie drew in a deep breath at the contact, and Visur felt her relax minimally. Crane’s stormcloud eyes slid over to him, and the tiger daemon stared back challengingly. Almost immediately, the soldier’s gaze dropped, and Visur felt frustration rise within him again.

The fragile grasp on calm he had created for Abbie snapped, and she tensed again. “We’re going to take a walk,” she told Crane, her voice curt.

Crane almost seemed sheepish as he ducked his head and replied, “Very well, lieutenant. I’ll be here should you need me.” His daemon didn’t do anything but sneak a peek at Visur from her human’s shoulder.

Abbie stalked out, heels clacking against the floor like gunshots. Visur lingered a few steps behind, stopping only to turn his head and say archly, “You know, you could at least acknowledge my existence. Abbie’s only one part of the package.”

He wasn’t quite sure who he’d been directing his words to, but it had the intended effect anyway. Crane’s arched eyebrows drew together at the thinly-veiled accusation, and his daemon bristled with indignance on his behalf.

But Visur was already gone by the time the colonial man could even think about replying.

 

✥

 

Abbie already knew what happened by the time Visur was prowling outside to join her, relieving the stretch caused by his momentary pause.

“They deserved it,” the tiger daemon growled, feeling her annoyance rising within him.

Abbie puffed out an irritated sigh. “Yeah, but you didn’t need to say it like that,” she retorted.

Anger roared in Visur’s ears. “What was I supposed to do?” he snapped, claws slipped out and scratching against the pavement. “Just let them treat me like… Actually, just not react to me at all? It’s fucking rude, and you know it Abs.”

Abbie recoiled. It wasn’t often that Visur swore, but on top of that, the words rang true. If this whole Witness shebang was the real deal, it wasn’t fair for Crane to be holding out on this partnership. Abbie had tried, despite Visur’s wariness, to make friends with the time traveler, and yet he and his own daemon for Pete’s sake, were bent on ignoring the closest part of her.

“Maybe you’re right,” Abbie admitted, sliding her hand into Visur’s fur and rubbing his head with perfectly manicured fingers.

The tiger snorted, his claws retracting. “Of course I am,” he replied, his voice snarky, but Abbie could feel a small glow of relief within him.

She tapped her forefinger against his ear thoughtfully. “We tell them now?” she said, half guessing and half asking for approval.

“Hell yeah,” Visur said readily, fur fluffing up in indignance. “I’ve had enough from Crane to last a lifetime; it’d be best if he stopped now, while he still has a chance.”

It was a hollow threat and Abbie couldn’t help but breathe out a little chuckle. “I agree. Let’s say we head back to our new secret base and tell him what’s up.”

 

✥

 

Despite her words, Visur and Abbie spent about another ten minutes just walking around, plotting what they were going to say and how they would say it.

They eventually returned to their ‘secret base’, and Visur felt a little start of surprise to see Crane bent over another dusty old book. But despite the nonchalant way his eyes were passing over the page, Visur immediately noticed his daemon. The Welsh/American polecat was curled up tightly on the table next to the book, dark eyes wide and wary. Her usually sleek fur was puffy with agitation and when Visur’s eyes met hers, her gaze skittered away.

“Lieutenant.” Crane sounded surprised as his eyes lifted, sensing their approach through his daemon. He stood abruptly, and despite everything, Abbie smiled just a little at the gesture that had no doubt been ingrained in Crane since his childhood.

He seemed awkward and more than a little guilty, standing there in the ramrod-straight position that Abbie had immediately associated with him two days ago when they first met.

She took a deep breath, ready to speak her mind, but Crane cut her to it.

“Lieutenant…” he began, then hesitated. “I wanted to apologize for my behaviour towards you and your…  Your daemon. It wasn’t my intention to insult or mistreat him.”

Abbie’s eyebrows arched delicately and Visur’s tail swished, slightly impressed that Crane had cut straight to the core of the problem. But to both of their shock, Crane’s polecat uncurled herself from the little huddle she’d been in and said in a high, clear voice, “And I would also like to apologize for refusing to speak to you or your daemon entirely.”

Abbie stared at the daemon, astonished. Visur had frozen completely, gazing at her with unblinking golden eyes.

“We aren’t used to this century, nor its customs,” Crane said, his voice slightly brisk. “It unnerved us both to the point where my daemon refused to speak even to others of her kind. She didn’t know how to react to it all, and particularly to how friendly the relationships between different humans and daemons are. But we realize now that it seems to have affected you both and cause you reason to doubt us.”

“It wasn’t meant to cause offense,” his daemon added, her voice quieting as she sat back on her haunches, her little paws pressed together on her stomach in a strangely humanlike manner.

By now, Abbie and Visur had gotten over the shock of hearing the daemon speak. She’d only said one sentence since they’d met, and despite it only being a few days both of them had gotten the impression that she barely spoke at all. And yet here she was, apologizing for her behavior.

Another small smile broke Abbie’s face. “It’s okay,” she assured both Crane and his daemon, any lasting irritation melting away. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“But,” Visur said firmly, feeling a little spike of amusement at the subtle flash of surprise in Crane’s eyes. It would probably be forever funny to see the colonial man react that way to a daemon addressing him directly. “We want to make it clear if this Witness thing is real… That you’re right about the Apocalypse coming… Then we all need to trust each other. Abbie and I have been trying, and you’ve pushed us away. This partnership needs to be a two-way street if it’s ever going to work out.”

Crane was silent for a moment, his eyes shifting over to his daemon’s. The pause lengthened as an unspoken conversation passed between the two of them, and Visur’s claws slid out and in with boredom.

But finally, Crane’s gaze left his daemon’s, and they both turned to stare at Abbie and Visur. “You’re both right,” he said at last. “And we are in agreement, lieutenant.”

The tiger’s tail swished again. “And Visur,” Abbie corrected for Crane, her hand landing heavily on her daemon’s head. “You and your daemon can call him by his name.”

“But your daemon doesn’t need to say hers if she doesn’t want to,” Visur added courteously. What he had said applied to him and Abbie as well; it wouldn’t do if they made their new partners uncomfortable.

Crane smiled a bit, the expression crinkling the corners around his blue eyes. “Very well, lieutenant… Visur.”

The tiger daemon couldn’t help but feel a little bit pleased that he was the first daemon other than Crane’s to be addressed by name. It was a little ridiculous, but in this case, it didn’t seem to matter all that much. After all, they had to take their victories one by one, if they were going to stop the Apocalypse.

 

 


End file.
